Delays
by partiallyyours
Summary: Something strange is happening to the women of the fleet.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! I posted this a few years ago on the Survival Instinct website. Someone suggested I post it here since I finally have a account. Feel free to tell me any of your thoughts!**

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The past two weeks had been an interesting time for the people of the fleet. It had started with a delay near a nebula that was of no significance in their search for Earth, but would turn out to have a rather large amount of significance for most of the women in the smallish cluster of vessels that comprised humanity's last hope.

Doctor Sherman Cottle was made aware of the problem two days after it began. A young viper pilot, callsign: Rush, had been in to see him.

"Doc, I'm going out of my mind. I've never felt like this in my life," she squirmed on the exam table.

"What's the problem, young lady?" Cottle made it clear with his tone that he wanted answers quickly and didn't have time for much else.

Rush, like many others who daily risked their lives, had few inhibitions and considered straightforwardness an asset.

"Sex," she said. "I can't stop thinking about it, can't stop having it. It's getting to be a real distraction." Rush was clearly earnest in her distress and was not playing a misguided joke on one of the most harried individuals in the fleet. Ishay had walked in on the conversation approximately one-half of the way through the word 'sex' and quickly interjected.

"Doctor!" she lightly touched his arm for his full attention. "Me too. You know how I've taken the past two days off? I spent it all in bed with Milik. I couldn't do anything else."

The doctor gave a highly unusual show of being speechless. Ishay added quietly, "I feel fine now. I thought it was just me."

A military doctor is quick with answers and Sherman Cottle was no different. He turned to Rush and advised her: "Take two days off. Spend them in bed. If it's not gone away by then, contact me. Otherwise, I don't want to hear from you."

Rush hopped off the table with a ridiculous smile for one with so serious an occupation and saluted. "Aye, sir!" she cried and trotted out of Life Station.

Ishay and Cottle stood awkwardly next to each other, each becoming instant experts in the art of avoiding eye contact.

"Ishay," he growled, "I have a feeling…"

"Right," she said slowly.


	2. Chapter 2

As the days ticked by, Life Station saw more and more women with the same complaint. It didn't cause too much of a disturbance in the Station because diagnosis was quick and instructions for treatment were quicker. Most people left happy with the assurance that two days in "bed" would almost certainly do the trick. Some women needed three or four.

Two days after he had seen Rush, Cottle made the unfortunate observation that he would have to inform his superior officers of the happenings in his Station. He called for a meeting with the president and the admiral, then spent the several hours he had to wait trying not to grind his teeth.

In Admiral William Adama's quarters, President Laura Roslin, Vice President Gaius Baltar, Billy Keikaya, and the admiral himself awaited the arrival of their doctor.

"I think I know what this is about," said the president in the calm, smooth way she had of saying almost everything. She was seated on the admiral's couch while the men were either having a drink or sitting in other chairs. Bill drank, Gaius only held his drink while looking nervous and fidgety as usual, and Billy merely sat in a chair nearest the president. All three of the men in the room looked at her.

"All of the women on my ship have been acting oddly. Billy, have you noticed?" Billy tried his best to avoid adding to what seemed to be an almost permanent blush on his cheeks and neck. He failed. They all looked at him expectantly, but he offered no more than a clearing of the throat.

The president continued, "Dinia, on my detail, took two full days off. She's never taken more than one sick day the entire time she's been with me. I wonder if there's some illness going around. Has anybody else noticed anything?" She looked around at the men, and as Gaius appeared to be about to say something, Doctor Cottle walked through the open hatch.

"Right," said the doctor, and he paused, appearing to gather his thoughts. The others waited, knowing that he would come to his point quickly. "The women of this fleet are being affected by…something. I don't know what."

They waited.

"Right," he said again. "The long and the short of it is this: well over three quarters of the women in the fleet-on every ship, mind you-have not been able to concentrate on anything but having sex."

Billy turned an impossible shade of red, Gaius fidgeted even more, the president looked like she was winning a cards tournament, so unreadable was her face, and Bill looked like he would either throw up or hit something.

Having received no response, Cottle continued, "The treatment is really very simple: somewhere in the range of two to four days in, um, well, bed. After that, everybody feels fine."

Gaius had something to say then. "You know, I-I have noticed…something…odd, really, going on…with the women." The president noticed the he was looking frequently over his shoulder as if he expected someone to come up behind him. She also noticed that everyone in the room was trying, with great success, to avoid looking at her at all.

"Well," Cottle added, "It's not just the women. There have been a handful of men affected as well. But there seems to be no shortage of willing partners, so it's not really too much of a problem."

Roslin asked, "You've no ideas about the cause, Doctor?"

At her words, they all looked at her and then looked quickly away, awkwardly and obviously ashamed at the direction of their thoughts. She noted that Bill had not looked at her at all. Ever the gentleman, he was trying to spare her any embarrassment their scrutiny might cause. Laura laughed and waved her hand, "Don't worry, gentlemen, I am unaffected."

Despite her intention to put them at ease, they all seemed even more uncomfortable at this very direct answer to the question in all of their heads.

"You may not remain so, Madame President. There are new, shall we say, patients every day. To answer your question, no, I don't know what's causing it," Cottle's manner became easier as he sidled on to more familiar, medical ground. "All lab results: electrolytes, hormone levels, they're all normal-well, as normal as they have been out here."

At the now familiar silence in the room, he continued, "I was hoping you could give some kind of statement. Instructions, maybe." They all snapped their heads over to him with similar expressions of shock.

"Oh, for frak's sake, I meant _treatment_ instructions! So people won't keep coming in to Life Station thinking they're out of their heads!"

"Of course, Doctor," said the president calmly and with poorly disguised mirth. She seemed to be the only one with any sort of sense of humor about the situation. "I'll have Billy start working on a press release right away." Billy's face showed very clearly how much he would absolutely _love_ to start work on that release right away. The president's smile showed how much she was aware of that fact.

"Good," said Cottle and he started heading toward the hatch. Baltar halted him when he began speaking.

"I think it might be the nebula." As everyone's attention turned to him, his defensive and fidgety manner was back in place. "That is-well, I haven't studied it extensively, but I-I, think it may be putting out a unique type of radiation. Perhaps it's affecting human physiology in some way we can't detect. By conventional lab testing, I mean."

Everyone considered it for a moment, and the president said, "Doctor Baltar, please study the nebula when you're not busy with other things," her tone made it clear what she thought those other things would be, "and get back to me with a report. However, it's not a high priority to find the cause." They all looked at her, slightly confused.

"Gentlemen! This is good news!" she spoke as though trying to explain something to a class of young students who should have gotten the point much earlier.

"More babies!" she announced. "This is a blessing. I understand we've been delayed here for the repairs on the ships' FTL drives and that we need to keep moving, but this is not a cause for all of your dour expressions. We'll get away as soon as we can, but a few days of further delay as many of our women are not able to perform their regular duties is something we're all going to have to accept." With that, the meeting was clearly over and everyone left the admiral's quarters.

Before she left, Laura reminded Bill of their lunchtime meeting the next day. He only murmured a response and didn't look up at her. She was unused to this treatment of her since they had come back from Kobol and especially since he had ordered that her life be saved by extraordinary means. She concluded that he had not heeded her words and she walked back to him.

"Bill," she said softly, "It's _good_ news." She placed her hand under his chin when he still did not look at her. She gave him a good-humored look that said, _"Agree with me, or else,"_ and he managed a small nod and an even smaller smile.

"Good," she said, "I'll see you tomorrow."

As the hatch shut behind her, Bill sat shakily down on the couch and said aloud, "We need to get the frak away from that nebula."


	3. Chapter 3

It had been two weeks since Rush first stepped foot in Life Station. The fleet was now several jumps away from the nebula that most were certain had caused the majority of female humanity to act like teenagers just set free from the reign of their parents.

Laura Roslin was sitting in Bill Adama's quarters and reflecting on the past two weeks. It was now several hours past the time they were supposed to meet for their usual lunch time meeting. Unlike times past, their meetings now only had the vaguest of agendas, as opposed to the very specific and only-when-necessary meetings they had held after they first met.

Though, ever since the day after Cottle had told them all about the "Current Situation" as everyone was calling it, they'd seen very little of one another. He'd called her to cancel their appointment that next day after the press release had gone out. Bill had explained the very real need for him to fly CAP since so many people were not able to perform their jobs. There were fewer female pilots than male, of course, but those female pilots frequently chose male pilots to be their "helpers" and Admiral William Adama could certainly not begrudge them their choice, even if it made inconveniences for him.

Laura considered Bill a friend now and arranged to spend as much time as seemed reasonable in his quarters, which by causes of disaster and relativity were now deemed palatial. She knew he considered her to be his friend as well, particularly after a conversation they had had shortly after her cure.

_"__You're not angry with me, are you?" He had been staring at her for some time while they were supposed to be reading through reports in his quarters._

_She looked up at him and took off her glasses. "What for?" she asked._

_He cringed inwardly. Her question was certainly a legitimate one, considering the amount of causes for anger to which she was entitled. He stood up and walked to the drink cart._

_"__I was the one who gave the order. Cottle didn't want it done, but I gave the order. I knew you would probably not approve, but I did it anyway." He was, of course, referring to giving Baltar the go ahead with the half-human, half-cylon stem cell infusion that was the direct cause of her current presence in his quarters._

_He was well aware of all the things he might be admitting to her if she chose to interpret his words. They were things he would not have admitted to himself if he were given time for reflection. He had not noticed that she had gotten up to stand behind him. She was like a cat, he thought, as she placed her hand on his sleeve._

_"__Bill," she intoned softly. He turned to look at her, his eyes unguardedly and uncharacteristically conveying the weight of her unknown answer. She slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her body against his. The relief he felt as he wrapped his arms around her back was equaled by the pleasure he felt at being able to hold her close after being on the edge of losing her for so long. For one brief, precious moment, be buried his face in her shoulder and neck._

_"__Thank you, Bill. Thank you for saving my life." Her voice was barely there, her tears and emotion drowning her usually steady voice. She pulled away slightly to give him a kiss on his forehead. Due to their only slightly differing heights, it ended up on his eyebrow. He opened his eyes after a moment and he still held her lightly in the circle of his arms. Her hands were still on his shoulders._

_"__We're even now?" he asked with a smile, referring to the fact that she had saved his life by convincing him to run rather than fight._

_"__Oh, no," she laughed, wiping away a tear. "We're even for saving one another, but you still owe me for saving everyone else's lives and for throwing me in the brig."_

_His face stormed over at this unwelcome reminder of his folly. She laughed and wrapped herself around him again. He welcomed her with his arms._

_"__No, no! I'm sorry, I was just teasing. We're even. You've saved us all, many times." She kissed him again, this time lightly on his lips. He gave her a watery smile, trying to ignore the heavy weight of emptiness he felt as she pulled away from him completely. They went back to their reports, the sense of friendship and intimacy settling comfortably in their bones._

She smiled fondly at the memory. It was one of the very few times they'd taken off the suits of armor they called professionalism. When she was in the mood to admit such things to herself, she regretted that it couldn't happen more often.

Bill had called her to say that he would be late again. The CAP were doing training exercises, and while there were certainly no particular rules that stood at the end of the worlds, Bill always tried to be in CIC to help guide the exercises. She usually listened to the pilots' chatter when she was in Bill's quarters, but she was trying to concentrate on a particularly technical report she'd received from Captain Tarney, so she was surprised when the hatch clanged open and Bill stepped through. He glanced at her briefly, enough to let her know that he was slightly surprised to see her, gave her a nod in greeting, then walked immediately to the drink cart.

Laura furrowed her brows at this strange greeting. She had noticed that he had been particularly distant these past few weeks and she knew that he had been trying very hard to get them away from the nebula that first week. She presumed that he still felt guilty about staying so long to search for Starbuck and was determined not to make the same mistakes again. She'd heard that he'd ridden the Chief's team particularly hard to get the FTL repairs done quickly. He'd flown CAP more often than anyone as so many were recovering from their 'affliction' as she fondly thought of it.

There were now very few people remaining who had any bit of 'affliction' left: lone holdouts who were stubbornly hoping the urges would 'just go away.' But, overall, it had been a rousing couple of weeks. Good humor, the spirit of camaraderie, and helpfulness abounded. Tensions were understandably low and Laura guessed that in a few weeks' time, there would be many announcements of babies on the way. It had turned out that almost eighty-five percent of the women in the fleet were affected and only one percent of the men. The poor men were teased somewhat at contracting what was thought to be a primarily female problem, but, as Cottle said, there was no shortage of willing partners, so ill will was not lingering. She also suspected that there were a few women who may have entirely made up their urges for a few days off and time in bed with a willing partner. She could hardly blame them.

Baltar had never proven conclusively that the nebula was to blame, but it was generally accepted as the cause. He had taken her lack of true concern for the causative factor quite to heart, giving her a ham-handed, semi-scientific report about three types of radiation not equaling the amount of energy the nebula was emitting. He concluded that there must have been an additional type of radiation for which they could not scan. She placed little stock in the report and was especially unconcerned since no one was hurt (well, she had heard some rumors about interesting bed play and its results coming from Life Station) and everything and everyone was slowly settling back to normal. She had no faith in any of Baltar's abilities after her dying visions, anyway.

She politely chose to ignore Bill's rather rude greeting, and began talking to him without preamble, as was their usual style now.

"Bill, I was wondering what you thought about an idea I've had."

He continued to keep his back to her but made a noise that may have been encouragement to proceed. She took it as such.

"I've been thinking about starting a meeting for the ships' captains. They could meet weekly and then appoint someone to bring me the most pressing issues. They're calling me all the time now and they usually have the same concerns, so I'm thinking that it would save me a lot of time."

Bill continued to stay at the drink cart. Laura made a face behind has back, wondering what could possibly be taking so damn long.

"The only thing is that you might have to go to at least the first meeting, since you are captain of the Galactica. I would try to get you out of the other ones, but I wanted to run it by you first."

She then heard the distinctive clinking of a very shaky hand placing a glass stopper back into a glass decanter. He couldn't be that upset about a damned ships' captains meeting. She stood up immediately at the noise and walked quickly over to him. Something was wrong, and she was blathering on. She placed her hand on his arm.

"Bill, what is it? What's wrong?" No answer. "Did something happen during the training exercises?" It was a sad fact that sometimes pilots died during training. She had heard it happen before while listening to the chatter. Since she hadn't been listening today, she would have had no way of knowing.

He looked at her concerned face and answered, "No, everyone is fine." As soon as he turned his face to her, her brow had furrowed and she knew something was wrong. He had a fine sheen of sweat all over his face and he looked gray. He was breathing heavily. His arm trembled terribly under her hand and she was instantly afraid for him. Her alarm was evident in her voice when she said, "Bill! What is going _on?_ You look awful! Are you sick?" She placed her hand on his forehead to feel for a fever; he flinched and pulled away from her hand. Her arm fell to her side and she was surprisingly hurt by his rejection of her touch. But as she looked at his panicked face, everything clicked in her mind: his reaction, or lack thereof, during their initial meeting with Cottle, his avoidance of her these past few weeks, and his dogged determination to get them away from that nebula all pointed to one thing.

"Oh, Bill. Not you, too!" She was trying valiantly not to laugh or smile and was succeeding admirably. She was so relieved at his well being she could have cried. "Why haven't you-"

"I'm not discussing this," he interrupted her while trying not to shout. He was pointing to the hatch and saying, "I need some time. We'll meet tomorrow."

She stared at him. He was being so characteristically stubborn. But as she thought more, she was reminded of how grateful she had been that she had remained unaffected. After all, she was not simply a civilian who could pick a random partner to help her through a few days in bed. He had the same problem. He had no one to whom he could turn for help. While his back was to her once more, she walked slowly out of his quarters.

He gave a massive sigh of relief and let the trembling that he had been so carefully holding in check take over his body. He could barely make it over to the couch. These two weeks had taken an enormous toll on his body and mind. He was building up the energy to stand up and go for the head when he heard the hatch clang shut. His head snapped up to look and he saw Laura spinning the lock. She turned to him and fixed him with a resolved, but kind, glare. Countless commands ran through his mind: _you need to leave; get out; pretty please leave,_ but his mouth formed no words and she was now walking toward him while taking off her jacket.

"I've told the Marines no interruptions." His hands clenched into his thighs, which was a difficult task in itself, considering how badly they were shaking. As she came to stand before him, no force in heaven or hell could have prevented him from looking up at her, just as no force could have prevented him from getting instantly and completely hard at her next words:

"I think you should take my shirt off, Bill."


	4. Chapter 4

"I think you should take my shirt off, Bill."

His hands, his traitorous hands, thought this was the best idea they had ever heard. They immediately reached for her and had almost attained their goal of curved hips before Bill snatched them back to his person. He clenched a fist near his lips and flexed the other hand near the ground. He closed his eyes to escape her glare. And he resumed trembling, which was becoming the hallmark of his internal battle.

She still stood before him, hands on her hips, sure of what was going to happen, and torn between feeling sorry for the obvious struggle that was going on in his proud mind and telling him to grow up and snap the hell out of it. She tried smiling at him and coaxing him to speak to her as she would a young child.

"Bill?" her voice was soft and had the effect of a million tiny needles all over his skin. They were pleasurable, alluring needles that were trying to convince him that her touch would cure him of every ill he had ever and would ever receive. He resisted further and the trembling reached comic proportions. "Bill, how long has this been going on?"

His eyes were still closed and though he tried to ignore her question, feeling that his control would best be helped by ignoring her altogether, he answered involuntarily, seemingly unable to fight even her implied demands.

"The first day," he snapped. He clamped his mouth shut on his villainous tongue.

Her hands slowly dropped from her hips to her sides and incredulity spread across her face.

"The…first…day." She shook her head. "So when we were all listening to Cottle tell us about what was happening, you were sitting there, already…"

"Yes! But I'm fine," he looked at her now, her slight smile a perceived insult to his lack of control over the situation. "Look, would you please go? I'm going to get over it," he made as if to stand up, but he was unable to complete the act because she did not move at all from her position in front of him. If he stood up, he would be touching the entire front of her body with the entire front of his body and then he would be totally and completely lost. It was untenable. She, being one of the smartest people he had ever known, picked up on this immediately and smiled wider, seeming to plant herself even more firmly into the deck before him, though she hadn't moved.

"I'm not going anywhere, Bill. Unless you'd like to move me yourself?" she cocked her head to the side, obviously having a grand time at his expense, he thought. She reached tenderly for the side of his face, intent on running her fingers through his hair, but he flinched away again and withdrew further back into the couch. He saw the look on her face as pity; it was almost worse than the crushing grip of agonies in which he had found himself housed these past two weeks.

His mutinous hands were trying to tell him things: _'Hey, Bill,"_ they said, _'She had a great idea! We can just move her for you. Just put us on her hips right there, (you know that's the most reasonable place to move a woman, Bill). We'll just move her the side and you can get up and leave. We won't do anything bad, we promise!'_

Frakking liars, thought Bill.

They twitched at his sides where they were currently imprisoned. _"No, no, you're right,'_they said, _'Her shoulders would be better. We'll move her out of your way by her shoulders! Safer, right? No cause for concern there! We'll just gently press our fingers into the soft, curvy skin on her perfectly sloped, sculpted should-'_ Traitors! He yelled to them in his mind.

It was really too bad, he thought. He'd lived this long and had been through so much, and now he was going insane. Any moment now, he was sure she'd reach for him again and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer. He slumped his shoulders in defeat and pointed one of his trembling hands to the drink cart.

"Would you," he swallowed and looked up at her with defeat on his face, "would you please help me with a drink?" he held his palm up to her to indicate the trembling that would prevent him from reasonably holding a glass, let alone pouring himself one.

Imagining herself at his side with her arm wrapped around him, helping him take a calming drink was more than alluring. She gave him an understanding smile. He took it to be patronizing, and not exactly tops on his list of faces he wanted to see on her. He waited until she was at the drink cart with her back to him and made an embarrassingly undignified attempt at retreat.

He bolted for the hatch.

The only reason he didn't make it in time was the fact that retreats were made especially difficult when one had a raging hard-on. This had been Bill's sad predicament ever since the shirt remark.

She blocked him effectively as he was almost to the hatch and looked at him disbelievingly.

"Are you serious, Bill? Is this how it's going to go? Me chasing you around your quarters? Because I suppose I could let you go out there and explain your condition to the Marines." Gods damn her, she was _still_ smiling! His face was all frustration and rage. He looked down at himself briefly and knew her point was a valid one. Damn it! Being panicky and trapped in a corner didn't lend itself well to making well-planned escapes.

"I don't even know how you made it _this_ long!" she went on, trying to soothe him with her tone of voice. "Everyone who's had this hasn't been able to concentrate on anything at all until they've taken care of it. Let me help you, Bill," her plea was soft and heartfelt.

He thought of all the restless nights, having to relieve himself countless times just to get some sleep. It had never done any good for more than an hour or two. The last few weeks had seen him excusing himself from CIC very frequently. And that was just the problem today. With the training exercises going on, he'd only been able to get away twice, and that was no help at all. She had no idea what she was doing to him. Her voice was all sympathy and understanding. And it was the absolute, godsdamn, frakking last thing he wanted from her.

He finally let loose with the anger and frustration he'd been bottling up since he walked in his quarters.

"This is _not_ going to happen, do you hear me?!" he was shouting. She flinched at the sheer volume. "I am _not_ some," he searched for the words, "drunk, out of control nugget who can't resist even the simplest of urges!"

"It's not-" she started toward him.

"NO!" he yelled, taking a step back and holding up his hands. "Get the _hell_ out of here!" He took a shaky breath and continued, "Can't you _see_ what it would be _like_ for me?" At her look of confusion, he went on, "Afterward? Having to see you and look you in the eye every damn _day_?!"

She recoiled at the verbal slap he'd just given her. She knew that a part of him didn't really want her, but this overt admission of revulsion at having to even look at her after being forced to be with her was cruel.

He saw exactly what she was thinking and was a hair's breadth away from allowing her to think it and letting her leave. But Bill wasn't a cruel man and he couldn't let her suffer for his own gain.

"No, no, damn it! That's not what I meant!" he rubbed his hands wearily over his face. She looked at him, her face a mask of hurt disbelief. "I know you would never do this if 'this' hadn't happened to me. I'm just the Old Man, and you're," he gave a huff of despair, "you. I can't stand the idea of you pitying me and _helping_ me!" He shook his head in disgust. "It's hard enough to resist you when everything is normal." He rolled his eyes at the word 'normal' as if there were such a thing anymore.

"Can't you _try_ to understand what it would be like to see you every day and know, _know_what you feel like beneath me, _know_ the sounds you make when I make love to you,_know_ what your skin feels like under my hands?!" He had started looking down at his spread hands at the mention of her skin as though he were imagining the feel of her body. "This, right now," he still looked down, "is torture. But that, after, would be the end of me. I wouldn't be able to stand seeing you every day and know you didn't want me."

She had been standing there, listening to this remarkable speech, and since he had been looking down, he couldn't have seen the slow trickle of tears at the corners of her eyes. She closed the two steps between them, barely aware of what she was doing through the haze of disbelief that was clouding her brain at this unexpected turn of events. She firmly and quickly placed herself in the haven of his arms, wrapping her own arms around him and pressing her open lips to his.

There never was a more heartfelt groan in the universe than the one Bill Adama gave as Laura Roslin placed her perfect lips on what he thought to be his highly undeserving ones. He enfolded her in his arms and gave what little effort he had left to not weeping as she whispered into his open mouth, "I _do_ want you Bill. I want you." Her voice was so soft as it tried to navigate out through her tears. The sound of it mended all the broken pieces of soul Bill had left in his body.

And then, concluding that following her orders until the day he died would be his best possible fate, he followed the order she had given what seemed like hours ago. He lovingly, but expeditiously, took off her shirt.


	5. Chapter 5

Her shirt was on the floor and at the revealing of her skin, Bill was lost. He was immediately down on his knees, worshipping the skin that was the source of so many of his tortured musings for so long. His hands, being so large on her small frame, were able to knead her back and sides at the same time. Having already been pushed to the edge of his control and trying not to hurt her with the strength of his need for her, his hands would alternately squeeze, and then release her body without fully letting her go. It was as though he were trying to pull her closer and release her at the same time. His lips were trying to become acquainted with every available inch of her midsection. As his lips were mapping her, he reached underneath her skirt and took hold of her underwear to slide them down her legs. She stepped out of them and it took all his force of will not to throw her down on the floor and take her right then.

Laura's head was thrown back the instant his mouth touched her body. Her hands were drawn to his head and she allowed herself to run her fingers through its thickness, finally admitting to herself that it was something she had ached to do long ago. She cried out when his hands took possession of her breasts; his thumbs caressing her nipples through her bra made her knees weak. He slid his hands up to her shoulders and brought the straps of her bra down her arms, exposing her breasts to his hungry eyes. They devastated him. If it had been another time, he would have spent days there. He cursed the nebula for the millionth time.

His mouth was hot on her nipple and his hand was rough on her skin. She gasped as he latched onto her and kept his head in place until he abruptly pulled up and looked down at her bra. Their hands were a luscious tangle as they tried to simultaneously reach behind her and undo the hooks holding the piece of clothing to her body. Laura gave a small, frustrated laugh at the further delay. It soon joined her shirt on the floor. She quickly undid the buttons of his jacket and hurriedly pulled the article down his arms, scraping him with her nails in the process.

"Sorry," she giggled. His eyes on her half-naked form made it clear that she had nothing to be sorry about.

His trembling would have made the task impossible, and when she undid his pants and pulled them down his legs, he had to stand very still with his hands clenched to his sides to prevent himself from attacking her. He was able to pull his tanks off himself and when he opened his eyes, he saw Laura Roslin looking at him with lustful anticipation. Truly, it was a sight he had never allowed himself to believe could be standing before him. Here he ran into a problem. His mind was full of all of the things he wanted to do to her: take her to his rack and make love to her body with his tongue for several hours, bury his head between her legs and make her scream for the next several days, make slow, sweet love to her until she was begging for release. Unfortunately, two weeks is a long frakking time and his rack was galaxies away. He knew he would never be able to hold on long enough for any of his plans. He glanced at the rack and then his couch which was much closer. She deserved much better than he was going to be able to give her. This was just a different sort of torture.

Laura looked at his furrowed brow and frowning visage and could easily understand his predicament. She took his face in her hands and said, "Bill. It's okay. I know." Lust and affection had made her voice sexier than it had ever been. He looked at her and concern remained in his eyes. She was stroking his cheek and nodding at him, telling him without words to agree with him. When he said nothing, she gave him a command. "Bill. Now." Her tone was kind, but firm.

At this, he smiled. It was a full, genuine smile that he only gave for special occasions. It was as if the skies had opened up. If the last two weeks had been a revelation for Bill Adama, then that smile was a revelation for Laura Roslin. She realized that she had not seen him truly smile for almost two weeks now, and her world was a dimmer place without it. So it was with a full heart that she wrapped her arms around him as he, in what seemed to be a single motion, lifted her skirt to her waist, placed his hands on the underside of her thighs, lifted her off the ground so she could wrap her legs around his waist, and carried her to his couch.

He sat down with a sigh and gave a heartfelt groan the entire time she was sliding down his achingly rigid cock. She was so incredibly wet for him and it turned him on more than anything he could ever remember. Here he was, two weeks of martyrdom behind him, and Laura Roslin was encasing his full length in moist heaven. He'd never been happier in his life. That is, until a moment later when he felt her trembling thighs pressing against his own and he registered the tiny movements of her hips as she restrained herself, waiting for a signal from him to begin in earnest.

His hips involuntarily bucked up into her and she gave him a cry. He lasted only a minute, which, when one considered the circumstances, was Herculean. He shouted when he finally, finally came inside her. Laura watched him yell as he reached relief at last and allowed herself a small smile. She waited, still as she could manage, as he rested his head on the back of the couch, eyes closed. She suddenly felt his seed leaking out of her and couldn't help thrusting her hips into him at the incredibly erotic sensation. He made a face that was half-smile, half-grimace and placed his hands on her hips to still her again.

"Just a minute," he said gently, too sensitive for movement. She knew that he would need her again and the next two days stretched pleasurably before her, but she also knew he needed rest and made as if to get up. "No," he said and pushed her hips more firmly down onto him, "I'm ready." And he opened his eyes to look at her. He saw the questioning and slightly disbelieving look in her eyes. To prove his point, he thrust one hand in her hair and used his other hand to push her firmly down against him. He was still hard. He hadn't even gotten soft at all.

She whimpered and began moving above him. With a clearer mind than he'd had for weeks, he was able to concentrate more fully on the woman he held so closely. His hands explored every part of her that he could reach. The feeling of being able to explore this woman as he pleased was a heady one. When he started using his mouth and his hands to learn her body, Laura started losing her own grip on control. When he caressed her nipple with his lips, barely brushing it, she whimpered again, this time in frustration. He magnanimously obliged her by taking her nipple into his mouth and suckling with all the desire he felt for her. "Bill!" she cried, and called out to him what he already knew was happening. Her whole body tightened and she shook as she climaxed in his arms. She fell forward on his body, her muscles demanding rest, but Bill gave her no reprieve. He continued pushing up into her and firmly guided her hips to continue with their movement. She couldn't help her cries at the almost excruciating pleasure of forced movement inside and on her extremely sensitive flesh. Her hair was wild as she undulated before him.

The second time he came inside her was not when she laved his nipples with her tongue, it was not when she held her own breasts in her hands, keening at the feel of her own fingers teasing her nipples at his request, it was not when her tongue was thrusting in his mouth, driving him almost to insanity, nor was it when she climaxed a second time, her inner walls clenching him tightly. No, it was when she was pressed against him, her hips fluid and hypnotic, her hands buried in his hair at the back of his head, her cheek pressed against his, and she whispered brokenly, "Bill," into his ear. That one word sent him over the edge. He called her name as he filled her again.

He thought he must have either dozed off or blacked out, because the next thing he remembered was Laura nibbling gently on his ear while his head was again resting on the back of the couch.

"Hey," he smiled a tender greeting.

She smiled back and gave him a gentle laugh that was better than any present he'd ever received. He kissed her then, wanting to give just her lips and mouth the time and attention they deserved. His hands had to join the party, though, and after only a few minutes, Laura was again moving surely over his still firm cock. His muscles protested this same position, however, and he pulled back from her. He thought happily that a rosy, flushed, sated but still lusting Laura was a perfect sight.

"Let me take you to my rack," he said, nuzzling her neck. Rather than laugh at the absurdity of needing to ask for her already given permission or make a joke about buying her dinner first, she simply nodded. They stood up and she removed her skirt. It was like a rent in his heart when he had to pull away from her in order for them both to stand. To repair it slightly, he picked her up and snuggled her close to his chest, unable to bear having her body be apart from his for even the short trip to his rack. After he placed her on the covers, he turned away. At her sound of protest, he reassured, "Just going to the head. I won't try to run away again, I promise." He gave her a silly grin, able now to laugh at himself.

He came back with a warm washcloth and he cleaned her gently, occasionally stopping to nibble or caress any part of her that took his notice, which made the process much longer than it needed to be, because most parts of Laura Roslin were attention grabbers.

He joined her in his rack and for the first time, their naked bodies were pressed fully against one another. He gasped at the sensation and rolled her beneath him. Her legs went automatically around his back and without hesitation he slid into her, still hard. It started out more languorous than before, and he was now in his element. His earlier dreams of making her beg were coming to fruition. She writhed beneath him, reaching whatever parts of him she could. He continually maneuvered his hand between them to circle and fondle her clit until he could tell she was close to coming and then he would withdraw. He had done this several times and she was almost weeping in frustration. "Bill, please!" she cried. He accommodated her and was allowed the sight of Laura thrashing wildly on his pillow as she climaxed around him once again. The sight was more than enough to send him falling over the edge again as well.

They fell asleep in each other's arms, but Bill woke Laura several times as the night went on, his need reasserting itself. After one of their multiple sessions of lovemaking, he looked at his clock and noted that a new day was about to begin. "Almost 2400," he said, pulling her back closer to him. "Mmmm," she murmured. They both thought of the next few days with sleepy pleasure. It would be filled with sleep and sex. Food would be a necessity, though not a priority. It was certainly an agreeable prospect. "So," he said casually, "what do you want to do tomorrow?" She turned sharply to look at him and noticed his goofy grin. They laughed and wrapped their arms around one another.

They were both reminded of how extraordinary it felt to be laughing helplessly in someone's arms and how long it had been since either one of them had felt anything like it. They felt extreme gratitude at being given such a benefaction at the end of the worlds. It was a simple matter to decide the best way of celebrating their newfound gifts.

Later still, resting again, Bill said hesitatingly, "Laura, there's something I want to tell you." She turned sleepy eyes to him. "When this is all done. I want to tell you later, when I'm over this. Because there's no reason for you to believe me now, but I just wanted you to know I have something to tell you," he finished lamely, aware that it was one of the most pointless, vague speeches he'd ever made.

She turned fully to him and placed her hand on his cheek. "I know, Bill. Me too." He looked in her eyes and saw the truth shining lovingly out through her tears. He gathered her up, content to know that she would be his to hold for the rest of their days and for the first time is his life, gave thanks to a nebula.


End file.
